I remember standing in a damp, half-lit cellar in Ravenna last autumn, tracing the grain of a sixteenth-century timber frame with my fingertips. While the official survey report droned on about “structural integrity” and “material degradation,” I was looking at…
I remember standing in a drafty attic in Ravenna three years ago, the smell of damp chestnut and centuries of dust thick in my throat. I wasn’t looking at the beautiful frescoes downstairs; I was staring at a single, hand-hewn…
I remember standing on a scaffold in a crumbling palazzo near Ravenna, the air thick with the scent of damp oak and centuries of dust. While the structural engineers were arguing over modern load-bearing calculations and steel reinforcements, I was…
I remember standing on a scaffolding in a narrow alley in Palermo last autumn, squinting through the dust at a set of sixteenth-century window guards. Most people see them as mere decoration or a barrier, but as I brushed away…
I was standing on a rickety scaffold in a damp crypt near Siena last autumn, my nose inches away from a fractured lancet window, when I realized most people completely miss the point of stained glass in italian churches. They…
I was standing in a dim corner of a basilica near Ravenna last autumn, my flashlight tracing the uneven surface of a crumbling apse, when it hit me how much we get wrong. Most guidebooks treat glass mosaic in byzantine…
I was kneeling on a damp floor in a villa near Ravenna last autumn, my knees aching against the cold stone, when I realized most people look at a floor and see only a pattern. They see “art,” but they…
I was standing on a scaffolding in a dim chapel near Syracuse last autumn, scraping away a layer of what a previous “restorer” had called a luxury upgrade, only to find the original intent buried under a thick, suffocating coat…
I remember standing in a damp basement in Ravenna last autumn, my flashlight catching the way a modern, synthetic coating was literally suffocating a sixteenth-century wall. It was heartbreaking. Everyone thinks they can just slap a thick, waterproof layer of…
I was standing on a scaffold in a narrow street near Ravenna last autumn, my hands stained with the fine, white dust of lime, when I realized how often we misread a building’s skin. Most people walk past a palazzo…